


Coming Home to You

by hellsyeah



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, Ray in a skirt, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsyeah/pseuds/hellsyeah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray has been in the village for a few days, he wants to come home to his love. But Ryan isn't home. Ryan's always home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home to You

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off that legend where saying a wolf's name can make them change back into human.

Ray was walking back home, down the long stretch of gravel that was being reclaimed by the deep woods around them, his skirt catching on tall weeds. He was wearing a dark blue skirt because he knew it was Ryan’s favorite, the soft material brushing his legs. His shirt was white and tucked into the skirt, his sleeves hanging below his hands when they slide off of his elbows, the only indication that he’d stolen it from Ryan. It was too hot outside for any more layers so once he had stepped out of view of the village he stripped off his corset and cloak which he only wore to not cause a fuss with the locals. Maidens were to be properly dressed at all times. He had huffed a laugh as he stuffed the unnecessary fabric into the basket on his arm.  
Ryan lived far away from the village and when he had first started courting him, Ray complained every time he even thought about one day moving into the secluded home but now he enjoyed the quiet of the walk to and from the village. He grew to know each quirk of the road, every hole in the trees, every little side trail and family of animals that frequented the walk with him. Ryan tended not to go to the village anymore, Ray had taken over all of the responsibility of shopping in town as an opportunity to see his friends and visit his mother’s house. Michael would give him a ride on one of his horses or carriages if need be, of course, but still, Ray preferred the walk.   
Ray saw the first signs of his home and his pace picked up, he’d been gone three days and wanted nothing more than to sit at home and have Ryan read to him. He’d visited his mother the first day but the second was plagued by a heavy rain and Ray decided to stay in with her rather than allowing Michael to help him home. So now, with the air heavy with moisture and a faint smell of smoke wafting his way, he hugged his basket to his chest and almost broke into a run. He grinned when he saw the smoke in the air, thinking it to be Ryan smoking meat in the backyard but as he rounded the top of the hill and saw the burning little cabin at the bottom Ray’s almost-run changed into a full run and he felt a spike of fear in his chest. The front door to their home was open and the flames licked at the roof of their porch. Half of their home was already lost, his little kitchen and living room, he knew, were destroyed. He didn’t see Ryan. Ryan wasn’t outside, he wasn’t trying to put out the flames with the water from their pump, he wasn’t yelling in anger or fear.   
“Ryan!” Ray yelled his name as he ran across their yard. He flung his basket off his arm and didn’t care that it broke when it hit the ground. The wooden porch groaned when he bounded the stairs and he coughed as the smoke hit his lungs. He balled one of his sleeves in his hand and pressed it to his mouth and nose, his free arm waving the smoke from his eyes. He couldn’t yell for Ryan anymore and he couldn’t get through the fire to half of the home, so he turned and ran darted to their small bedroom, throwing the door open and searching for his love.   
He’d barely made a decent search of the remaining home before he heard something crack and crash on the other side and he left the room to find the roof of their kitchen had fallen in. He had to jump over a spreading section of fire to get back out the front door. He wasn’t sure if the tears were from fear or from the smoke.   
Ray wiped his eyes with the sleeve he had pressed to his face and fell forward onto his knees. His body was racked with hard coughs and he had to brace his hands on the ground. He struggled to stand again. There was still no sign of Ryan when he turned back to the house but he caught sight of a thick, tapered stick near the corner of their home. “It’s a torch,” he said to himself, bile rose in his throat.   
Ray turned and ran around the side of their house. The backyard was empty so he took off toward the trails in the woods that Ryan used to navigate to his favorite hunting spots. He hoped he’d run into him somewhere.   
Just barely inside the line of the tree Ray noticed that the path was beaten wider than usual. Ryan rarely ventured from the paths so close to home. He paused long enough to notice the broken twigs and tall weeds before he was running again.   
He tripped over stumps and slipped on wet mud but he knew, as long as the grass was crushed, he was going the right way. His eyes stung from the tears and his feet and legs already ached from the walk and the added strain of the run. His skirt ripped as he stumbled again. He let out a distressed noise but didn’t stop running, darting through the familiar trees.   
Minutes later, as he neared the furthest he’d ever wandered down Ryan’s trails, he started to hear voices yelling. So many voices, all screaming in such harsh tones that Ray hoped he never got close enough to understand the words. Then he heard a snarl.  
A deep rumble of a sound that he knew would be accompanied by the clack of sharp teeth. A fire smell returned to him and he covered his mouth to stop from coughing. He slowed down as he got closer to the noise and smoke. He ducked behind a clump of high weeds and dropped to his knees to catch his breath, eyes trained on the fire dancing in the air. More torches.  
There were at least a dozen men, only four with torches but the rest with weapons in their hands. Large rifles and axes, raised and pointed at something Ray couldn’t see. They were still screaming.   
“Beast.”  
“Demon.”  
“Abomination.”  
“We need to kill it.”  
Ray crawled out of the weeds as silently as he could, watching men wave fire toward the middle of their crude circle. A man with a torch lunged forward and another snarl cut through the men. Ray heard the snap of the teeth this time. He stood up and walked closer to the men, trying to keep silent, only wanting to see what they had captured.   
Ray caught sight of the towering beast soon enough, the large wolf barring its teeth at the man closest to it. It’s dirty brown fur was matted down on its side from a wound and Ray let out an involuntary gasp when he saw it. The wolf’s head whipped around to where he was right before the man in front of Ray turned and grabbed his arm. Ray tried to struggle away from him. He feared being thrown into the center of the circle. Wounded wolves were unpredictable.   
The man’s grip was strong enough to bruise and Ray cried out, trying to kick out at him. Then his other arm was grabbed by another man.   
“Be still, don’t yell,” The first man was talking to him, pulling him back from the circle. His dark hair was greasy and his hairline was shrinking. Ray remembered him as one of the men from the village. And when he looked at the other men he noticed he’d seen most of them growing up or during his visits. The second man was one of the men who helped Ray’s mother with her garden. He’d always been nice to Ray before.  
“Let me go,” Ray tried to wrench his arms free, rotating his arms and shoulders.   
“We’re trying to protect you. This monster is bound to kill you.” The second man.  
“You should have stayed in town,” The first man said. His other hand was still gripping his gun and Ray tried to kick it from his hand. The second man smacked him across the face.   
“Pretty maidens listen,” He said. Ray spit at him. He raised his hand to Ray again but turned toward the circle as the wolf growled.   
The wolf took a step forward. The first man’s grip loosened enough for Ray to pull his arm free and punched at the second man’s fingers until he pulled his hand away too. But instead of running away from the wolf, Ray ran forward.   
A third man caught him around the waist. He pulled on the man’s hands and screamed.   
The wolf lunged toward them. The man holding Ray managed to jump out of the way but he stumbled and both of them fell to the ground. Ray’s shoulder scraped on thorns. He heard another man screaming and a gunshot.   
The man who fell with him scooted back across the ground but Ray didn’t move as he watched the wolf latch his jaw’s onto the leg of the first man who grabbed him. He was the one who fired his gun. Or dropped it and it fired off. The second man only had a torch but he was waving it at the wolf. The wolf pulled away with a bloody jaw and jumped at the second man, his claws sliced through the flesh of his abdomen.   
Ray looked away and noticed the other men were trying to sneak up on the distracted wolf, guns pointed at it and steps slow. Ray scrambled up and ran toward the first man, grabbing his dropped gun while the man was trying to stop his leg from bleeding.   
Ray had never fired a gun but the way he pointed it at the approaching men was sure. His hands shook and he tried to ignore the screaming men behind him as he tried to look intimidating.   
“Come on now, doll,” one man spoke up. His voice quiet like he was trying not to alert the wolf. “We’re trying to help you. Come over to us.”  
“No,” Ray said. The man who spoke up took a step toward him and Ray trained the gun on him. This man only had an axe. Ray recognized him as a shopkeeper.  
The wolf must have finished with the second man because Ray saw it out of the corner of his eye, front legs bent and ready to pounce on another man.   
A man in front of the group fired at the wolf and Ray jumped. The man missed. But he saw the wolf charge at the man, jumping for his neck. The man went down with a gurgle and the rest of the group dispersed. The wolf stood on the body and bared its teeth at the largest remaining group. One brave man raised his axe and charged for the wolf from behind.   
Ray pulled the trigger.  
He hadn’t expected to kill the man with the shot because it was the first time he’d ever done so. But he managed to clip the man in the arm and make his axe swing lose force. The axe hit the ground next to the man’s foot.   
Four men turned tail and ran. Ray heard them crashing through the woods back toward his house. One man grabbed the man Ray had shot and tugged him along behind them.   
Two men were dead. One was bleeding heavily on the ground. The last three men were standing stock still, guns still raised at the wolf.  
The wolf stepped off the body toward the men. Ray stepped toward the wolf. The three men stepped back. Ray had his gun pointed at the men again so when one of them, gun shaking violently and eyes wide with fear, fired his gun and hit the wolf, Ray tried to fire again. His gun didn’t shoot. The wolf yelped but didn’t back down running at the man and knocking the gun from his hands. The two men left jumped away but didn’t run. The wolf had an arm in his mouth, shaking his head like he was trying to rip it from its socket. One of the men looked sick and dropped his gun to run like the others had done before.   
The last man was shaking so badly on his legs that when he attempted to take a step away he almost face-planted. Ray tilted his head to the side and watched him watch the wolf.   
“You might want to help your friend,” Ray said. He pointed to the man bleeding on the ground, even if part of him wished he would be left to bleed to death, if only for revenge for the bruises forming on his arms. The wobbly-legged man jumped and nodded, taking a rushed moment to help the injured man up before trying to hurry back along the path.   
Ray watched them go for a moment before he fell to his knees again. He was breathing harshly, his heart beating hard enough to feel in his ears. The wolf growled about him and he fell back onto his butt. He crawled backwards away from it but stopped when the wolf growled again.   
There was a feral look in the wolf’s eyes and Ray didn’t dare look away. The wolf limped forward toward him. The fresh wound in its shoulder oozed fresh blood but from what he could see the wound in its side had stopped bleeding.  
Ray hesitantly reached out a hand toward the wolf. The wolf sniffed at his hand but growled, snapping at him. Ray pulled his hand back and swallowed. When he reached his hand out a second time it was shaking uncontrollably.  
The wolf snapped again and Ray wasn’t able to move his hand away in time and the wolf’s teeth sank into his palm. He didn’t jerk away but he cried out. The wolf let go and jumped back.   
Ray tucked his hand against his chest and tried to put pressure on the wounds. The wolf was staying away from him now.   
Ray watched as the wolf seemed to focus on the blood staining his white shirt. Ray cleared his throat and tried to smile, tears falling on his cheeks again. From fear and from pain.   
“It’s okay,” Ray said, his voice wavering. “I’m okay.”   
The wolf snarled and lowered its head. Its face was almost completely covered in matting blood.   
“R-Ryan,” he said. His voice threatened to break.   
The wolf seemed to freeze. Its eyes found Ray’s face and it whined, lowering down onto its belly. Ray watched at the wolf seemed to vibrate on the ground before its bones started shifting. Ray closed his eyes but he couldn’t block out the sickening sound of bones snapping and the high pitched whining that deepened until they were human.   
Rough hands cupped Ray’s cheeks and wiped away the tears falling from his eyes. Ray leaned forward into them but then they were gone. When Ray opened his eyes Ryan was scooting away from him.   
“No,” Ryan said. His voice was hoarse and worn. “Ray, stay over there.”  
Ray did the opposite and started walking on his knees toward him. Ryan kept moving back until he ran into a body behind him. Ryan’s face twisted into a horrified look and he scrambled away from the corpse. He flinched when the sideways movement pulled on the hole in his shoulder and he pressed his fingers there.  
“You’re hurt. Let me see,” Ray said.   
Ryan glanced at Ray’s hand. “I bit you.”   
“You were feral.”  
Ryan glared at Ray, “it doesn’t matter. I hurt you.”  
Ray felt frustrated tears welling up again and he pushed himself up to stand. He walked over to one of the bodies and kicked it in the foot. “They hurt us! You wouldn’t have hurt me if… They shot you and they grabbed me,” he choked. “They destroyed our home.”  
Ryan stood up, too. He took a step toward Ray and when Ray didn’t flinch away he walked until he was standing in front of him. He reached for his injured hand and examined the wounds he’d made. Neither of them said anything as Ryan bent down and ripped the fabric of the dead man’s shirt. He used the fabric as a makeshift bandage for Ray’s wounds, grimacing when Ray whimpered at the pain. When the bandage was tied Ryan pressed the hand to his own chest.  
“I’m sorry,” he said. Ryan wrapped his arms around Ray when he pressed against his chest.   
“What are we going to do?” Ray asked.  
Ryan pressed a kiss to his forehead and didn’t say anything for a long time. Not until Ray pulled back and looked up at him. “We start over.” When Ray didn’t respond Ryan panicked, “or I can leave and you can go back to the village and be with your mother and Michael. That would be the safer option anyway but those guys might be there and- “  
Ray huffed and it made Ryan shut up. Ray moved to look at the wound on Ryan’s shoulder and sighed. He looked down at his ripped skirt and held the fabric up, “a little help?” After a moment Ryan ripped the fabric into a strip like he had with the man’s shirt and then stood still as Ray wrapped it around his shoulder. Ray then stepped back to look at the wound on his side. “Another gun?”  
“Axe blade,” Ryan said. Ray nodded but didn’t mess with the wound. It wasn’t bleeding anyway.   
Ray reached out with his uninjured hand and took Ryan’s, “where will we go? We need a doctor.”   
Ryan looked at Ray like he was the most precious thing in the world. He squeezed Ray’s fingers. “Do you remember when I told you about those guys I used to hunt with. Geoff and Jack?”   
Ray nodded, “your pack.”  
“Yeah. We can go there. They can help us.”   
“First, we should get you some clothes,” Ray smiled at him and laughed when Ryan blushed that adorable shade of red that spread down his chest. “Michael will help us get there.”  
Ryan nodded and started walking with Ray down a different path than the men had taken. “It might be dangerous in the village.”  
“Nothing’s too dangerous when you’ve got a big bad wolf to protect you,” Ray joked.  
Ryan let out a humorless laugh. He was thinking about the bandage on Ray’s hand. “I’ll try to take care of you,” he said seriously.  
Ray shifted until he was pressed against Ryan’s side. He wasn’t afraid of his wolf, he knew Ryan was dangerous and he knew it only took something like today to turn him bloodthirsty but Ray knew he could always bring him back. “I know you will.”  
Ryan wasn’t sure he did. But as the two of them walked back toward the burning remains of their life, covered in their own blood and the blood of strangers, he knew he would try to be what Ray needed.

**Author's Note:**

> If this gets enough interest I have ideas about continuing the story where they meet the pack   
> Or expanding the universe to other wolves!


End file.
